“What do you do when you feel overwhelmed?”
Kaia gave me a shy smile. The breeze tossed her wavy hair, and she didn’t bother taming it. I loved that—her comfort with me. “I write in my diary. Sometimes I stretch or dance. But walking on the beach is amazing. If I had a car, I’d come here all the time.”
“I’m sorry about your job, peque. It wasn’t fair.”
“It wasn’t.” She shoved her hands into the pockets of her red puffer jacket. “The worst part is I probably won’t find another one. Between school, dancing, and therapy, it’s harder than it looks.”
“Therapy?”
She sidestepped a clump of seaweed. “Yeah. My father thinks talking to Dr. White once a week should stop me from missing Mom. It doesn’t. I’ve been going for years, and I don’t even trust the guy. It’s a giant waste of time.”
I filled my lungs with briny air and tilted my head back, letting the wind ruffle my hair. “This is the best therapy. The ocean. Fresh air. Great company.”
Kaia’s soft giggle made me glance at her. Her blue eyes shone, and she looked so beautiful it hurt to stare. “You called me great company,” she said. “Guess I’m not the small, annoying kid anymore.”
“You’ve never been annoying.”
She nudged my ribs with her fist. “Liar. You couldn’t wait to get rid of me when you were fifteen.”
I stopped walking. “Was that the impression I gave you? You were the only thing that made moving to the States bearable.”
Pink bloomed across her cheeks. “Oh. I’d never have guessed. You did everything you could to go back to Spain.”
“After Dad died, all my mother and I did was fight,” I said over the murmur of waves. “And it got worse when she dropped the news about seeing someone else. I couldn’t understand how she was ready to move on while I wasn’t. I missed Dad. And it pissed me off that she made decisions that affected me without asking. A few dinners with your father weren’t enough for me to know him.”
“That was more than what I got.” Kaia resumed walking. “I know my father met your mother on a business trip, but I’d never even seen her. One day, he just announced she’d be living with us and acted like the years he spent with Mom didn’t matter. Honestly, I don’t think I matter to him, either.”
This morning’s conversation with my mother surfaced, pressing heavy against my chest. Russell’s parenting sucked, and I didn’t see it changing. Kaia deserved better.
I nodded toward the dry stretch of sand. “Let’s sit there?”
She agreed, and I spread my jacket for us. It barely fit two, our thighs brushing. Close enough to smell her hair, hear her soft breaths—and close enough that I had to get a grip. My reaction to everything about her was anything but friendly.
I wasn’t supposed to like her. For a hundred reasons. Russell would lose his shit, ground her for life, and probably ruin my career. I needed to focus on racing, on making money. So why the fuck did my heart stutter every time our eyes met?
Probably the same reason I’d gotten jealous of that kid at the club who’d stepped on her toes.
Kaia hugged her knees. “Thank you, Ash.”
“For what?”
She stared into the distance, her expression vacant. “For bringing me here today. If I’d stayed home, I’d have cried or argued with my father. He’s probably glad I was fired—he never wanted me working. You know what’s sad?”
The wind blew a strand of hair into her eyes. On impulse, I brushed it back, my fingertips lingering too long against her skin.
Her breath hitched, and I pulled away. “What’s sad?”
“My father hates everything that brings me joy.”
“Your father is an asshole.”
She snorted. “He acts like one, for sure.” After a pause: “Mom used to tell me I should do what made me happy.”
“That’s what Dad told me too,” I said. “He never said I had to race like him, but I can’t picture doing anything else.”
“You were definitely born to race, peque.”
I barked a laugh. “What did you just call me?”
